


I'm Never Close Enough to Say

by rosieeexox



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Diners, Everybody knows, F/M, Friends to Enemies, Friends to Lovers, Lack of Communication, M/M, Oblivious Derek, Oblivious Stiles Stilinski, One Shot, Scott Erica and Boyd are also werewolves, So is Cora, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Werewolf Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2021-02-25 14:20:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22193683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosieeexox/pseuds/rosieeexox
Summary: This fic really got away from me. I just wanted to write a quick little thing about Stiles saying his favorite color was blue after seeing Derek’s beta eyes and Scott being like “wtf I thought it was red?” and instead we got this.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Vernon Boyd/Erica Reyes
Comments: 14
Kudos: 409





	I'm Never Close Enough to Say

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd and written in like 2 hours so!!! enjoy!!

Most people get a job after college. Most people don’t move back to their hometown after graduation to live in a tiny apartment three blocks away from their parents. Stiles and Scott are not most people. And in true “not most people” fashion, they decide to start babysitting for extra cash. 

Apparently it’s hard to pay rent and bills when you both only work part time at a bookstore. Which is why they’re trying to save up to restore Deaton’s old vet clinic. Ever since he moved on to bigger and better things - retiring in Costa Rica - it’s been hard to keep up with all the minor cuts and bruises that go with protecting an entire town from supernatural creatures. 

Not just for them, but for the other people who need Stiles’ special abilities. Word of mouth only gets you so far, even when you’re one of the few Sparks left. They need an actual place of work. Plus, Scott actually graduated from veterinary school so they could keep up the front. 

Most of the kids they babysit are pretty cool. And they get tipped pretty well considering their babysitting the kids of people they actually know. All in all, it’s not a bad gig.

Stiles plops down in the plush diner seats with a sigh. Scott is significantly more graceful about it.

“Long day, boys?” Erica asks, already arriving with their drinks.

“You have no idea.”

“Poop or vomit?”

“Both.” They say simultaneously. 

She shudders just as Derek appears.

“That’s why babysitting is a job normally reserved for desperate 16 year olds trying to save up for a new bike. How old are you, again?” He asks with a smirk.

“We are very distinguished 23 year old  _ men _ .” Stiles replies. “And most of our money goes towards eating here so be nice.”

Derek puts up his hands in mock defense. “I’ll have your food out in a minute.”

“Good call befriending the diner staff, Scotty.”

“Stiles we literally went to high school with Erica. And Boyd.”

“I know. I was referring to Derek.”

Scott rolls his eyes.

It’s a particularly late night, 2am to be exact, when a very drunk Mr. and Mrs. Forrester return home to their three children tucked in bed, courtesy of Scott and Stiles. Mr. Forrester tips them an extra $50 as an apology. 

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Curly fries?”

“And milkshakes.”

The diner is quiet, as you’d expect a diner to be at 2am on a Thursday. Stiles still doesn’t understand why Derek insists on keeping the diner open 24 hours. Not that he’s complaining about his ability to get curly fries in the middle of the night, but still. 

He’s not sure how him or Scott missed it, chalk it up to their exhaustion. They enter the diner to an all out brawl. Erica and Boyd are pulling four Pixies off of Derek while simultaneously fighting off two more. Each. It takes Stiles a second to comprehend what he’s seeing before he springs into action. A golden burst of light flashes from his palms and the Pixies drop to the ground, completely made of stone.

“What the fuck.” Erica screams, jumping away from where several Pixies dropped at her feet.

Derek’s eyes flash blue at the sudden burst of magic and the possible new threat.

“What the fuck.” Stiles jumps back. “You’re a werewolf?”

“You’re a spark?” Derek asks around his fangs.

There’s a tense silence before Boys starts laughing, nudging a stoned Pixie with his foot. It breaks the tension. Sort of.

“Can you turn them back?” Erica asks, still breathless.

“Do you want me to?”

“No.”

“Then, no.” Stiles answers simply. Derek chuckles.

“What’s so funny?”

Derek looks at him confusedly. Stiles leaves without a word, dragging Scott behind him.

He’s aware that he’s rambling. Scott has tried to interrupt him several times but he can’t stop mumbling about secrets and the supernatural and yelling about liars and Pixies and making all these frustrated noises.

Derek is a werewolf. Derek is a  _ werewolf.  _ Derek is a werewolf like Scott. Which means that he can smell...things. Things like embarrassment and anxiety and...other things. Derek can basically smell every lustful thought Stiles has ever had about him. Which is a lot. I mean, when the owner of your favorite diner turns out to be a beautifully tan man with muscles and eyebrows and arm hair who frequently wears tank tops and leather, what is Stiles supposed to do?  _ Not  _ picture the two of them making out on the hood of Derek’s Camaro? That’s a lot to ask. 

The next day, Stiles and Scott are babysitting Mrs. Gregson’s granddaughter, Claire. They babysit her pretty much every month because she refuses to go to the hair salon with her grandmother. Stiles is exhausted. So exhausted that he lays on the floor and lets Claire put makeup on him and put clips in his hair while Scott takes incriminating photographs of the whole ordeal. 

“What’s your favorite color?” Claire asks, nudging Stiles to make sure he’s still awake.

“Blue, why?”

“I’m gonna paint your nails.”

“Dude what?” Scott asks. Stiles is too tired to open his eyes.

“What?”

“Your favorite color is red.”

“I don’t have red nail polish.” Claire says softly, Stiles can picture the pout on her face.

“That’s okay, Claire Bear. Scott just doesn’t understand that you can have two favorite colors and right now mine is blue.” He cracks one eye open to wiggle his fingers in Claire’s face. She giggles and grabs it, pushing it flat on the floor so she can start painting. He doesn’t notice the suspicious look, courtesy of Scott.

Mrs. Gregson returns, hair freshly permed, and chuckles when she sees Stiles. He catches himself in the reflection, multicolored glitter eyeshadow is smeared all over his face, and his hair is sticking straight up with the help of at least a dozen butterfly clips. 

Stiles gets home, scrubs his face, and climbs into bed for a nap. He’s just about to fall asleep when he hears his apartment window slam open. He sits up in bed, magic pulsing just beneath his skin at the potential threat. 

There is a very large, very handsome man at the edge of his bed looking very - oh, shit, that’s Derek.

“What do you want?” Stiles asks, pretending that he wasn’t just having sleep deprived induced thoughts about Derek being in his bedroom.

“Wanted to talk. Scott came by the diner without you.”

He almost mumbles the word “Traitor” but stops himself because Derek would hear it. Because Derek is a werewolf and now he’s angry all over again.

“I can’t believe you lied to me.”

“Erica and Boyd lied, too. So did you. If we’re keeping score. I’d say we’re even.”

Stiles huffs.

“Also, you never asked. So technically none of us lied to anyone.”

Stiles rolls his eyes.

“Are you seriously giving me the silent treatment? You’re the most obnoxiously talkative person I know, this is a poor tactic.”

Stiles scoffs, but says nothing. He makes a big show of gathering up his covers and dramatically draping them over himself before rolling over to face away from the window. He checks a few minutes later to make sure Derek actually left. Which he did, of course. Silently. “Fucking werewolves.” He mutters, before drifting off.

Stiles boycotts the diner for a week. Scott does not. But he does bring Stiles curly fries, so he is forgiven.

Erica ambushes him in the cracker aisle of the grocery store.

“Stiles!”

“Erica.”

“I’m so glad I ran into you. I’ve been waiting to catch you at the diner but I haven’t seen you.”

“Oh, uh, yeah, well, I-”

“It’s fine! I was just wondering if you would watch my dog on Saturday.”

“I babysit kids, Erica. Not animals.”

“Dogs are easier! He’s super easy, I swear. My backyard is fenced in so you don’t even have to walk him!”

Stiles narrows his eyes. “Fine.”

“Thank you!” She squeals, pulling him into a hug. “You’re the best.”

Stiles watches her leave the grocery store moments later, with no bags in her hand.

**Key is under the mat! Thank u love u from me and Boyd!!!**

Stiles lets himself into Erica’s apartment only to find Derek sitting on the couch. Great.

“Do you make a habit of breaking into other people’s apartments?” Stiles asks in lieu of a greeting.

“No, Erica asked me to feed her fish.”

“Funny, she asked me to watch her dog.”

“Erica doesn’t have a dog.”

“Well I don’t think she has a fish, either, Derek.”

They both stare at each other confused frustration.

“Well, this has been really fun but I think I’m going to head out.” Stiles says, fidgeting with the dog toy in his hand that he bought on the way over. Erica owes him $5. 

“I brought beer. And I ordered pizza if you want to stay.”

“What kind of pizza?”

“Meat lovers, obviously.”

Stiles stays.

He’s not sure how they got on the topic, but somehow Stiles starts rapid fire quizzing Derek on his werewolf abilities. They’re mostly the same things he had to figure out when Scott got bit the summer before they started college. He just wanted to make sure he was right about some stuff. Which he was, of course.

Stiles is a few beers deep, which is the only explanation for what comes out of his mouth next.

“Maybe you’re the dog I’m supposed to be watching.”

“Excuse me?”

“Erica asked me to watch her dog, but the dog is you, I think.”

“That would make you the fish.”

Stiles makes a disgruntled face at that.

“I bought this stupid dog toy for a nonexistent dog.” He mumbles, taking another sip of beer. “Any chance you want to play fetch?” Derek is looking at him pointedly. “Too far?”

“I was trying to tell if you were being serious.”

“Are  _ you  _ being serious?”

“I can full shift, so.” He says it so nonchalantly that Stiles almost misses what he’s saying.

“What?! You can turn into an actual wolf? Scott can’t do that, he can barely beta shift.”

“I bet I can do a lot of things that Scott can’t do.”

Before Stiles can fully process  _ that,  _ Derek is taking off his jacket and unbuttoning his pants. Stiles is stunned and frozen on the couch until he hears a soft whine coming from the back door. He stands up to find a fully shifted Derek pawing at the door, asking to be let out. Stiles holds back the literal dozen dog jokes and instead opens the door, letting them both out into the backyard. Derek nudges the dog toy in Stiles’ hand with his nose. Stiles tosses it halfway across the yard. Derek dashes after it, catching it in his mouth, and dutifully brings it back for Stiles to throw again. They play for about fifteen minutes before Derek turns it into a game of tug o’ war when he refuses to let go of the toy in his mouth. Stiles loses, obviously.

Without warning, Derek shifts back, gracing Stiles with his  _ very  _ naked body. Stiles accidentally sets the closest lawn chair on fire. Derek chuckles as Stiles magically puts the fire out just as quickly as it came. He’s dressed by the time Stiles turns back around. Thankfully. 

It’s not until they go back inside that Stiles remembers he’s supposed to be mad at Derek. He’s about to remind them both but then Derek asks him if he wants to watch all of the Harry Potter movies in order.

Which is how Erica finds them early the next morning half cuddling and asleep on her couch.

She nudges Stiles awake, who in turn wakes up Derek by pushing himself up and off the couch using Derek’s chest as leverage. He pretends not to notice how nice of a chest it is.

“Why is one of my lawn chairs burnt to a crisp?”

“The dog did it.” Stiles answers, glaring at her.

“Fair enough.” She winks.

“Fair would be providing us with breakfast.”

Erica laughs. “You wish, Stiles.”

“I’ll make you something at the diner.” Derek offers.

Stiles continues to glare at Erica all the way out to his car.

“Try not to set anything on fire this time.” Derek jokes, passing Stiles the freshly baked bread and a carton of eggs.

“Keep your clothes on and we’ll be fine.” Stiles retorts.

“Is that really what you want?”

“What?”

“For me to keep my clothes on?”

“Yes? No. I don’t know! What?” Stiles stutters, turning around in time to see Derek shrug and go back to taking out ingredients. 

Stiles glares at the carton of eggs.

“I know you can smell that I’m attracted to you. Have been for months. Years, probably.” Stiles laughs nervously. “Why did you never say anything? Make a move? Am I  _ that _ unappealing?” He plays the last part off as a joke.

Derek rolls his eyes. “Wanting to fuck someone isn’t the same as liking someone, Stiles.”

“You want me to like you?”

Derek shrugs, reaching past Stiles to start slicing the bread. 

Stiles scoffs. Derek sniffs the air dramatically. “You’re angry.”

“Fuck off.”

They eat in a weirdly calm but sexually charged silence. Erica comes in just as Stiles is finishing up his breakfast sandwich. Which was fucking delicious. Not that Stiles was about to tell Derek that. 

“I can literally smell the sexual tension from outside.” She says, clocking in and putting on her apron.

Stiles grabs his jacket and leaves, flipping Erica off on his way out.

“Are you ever gonna tell him?” Erica asks, taking her place behind the counter. 

“Tell him what?” Erica rolls her eyes. 

Stiles decides to stop boycotting the diner but he doesn’t stop boycotting Derek. Scott attempts to point out that that’s impossible, seeing as Derek  _ owns  _ the diner they’re currently sitting in. 

“It’s not even the werewolf thing anymore.”

“No?” Scott raises an eyebrow. “Then what is it?” 

“I don’t know. He just -”

“Oh my god I knew it!” Scott cuts him off. “You like Derek! You have a crush on Derek, I fucking knew it.” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Stiles says defensively, looking around to make sure nobody heard them.

“I knew it ever since you told Claire your favorite color was blue! Erica owes me 50 bucks”

What.

“You and Erica made a bet about whether or not I have a crush on Derek?”

“Maybe?” Scott has the decency to at least look apologetic about it. 

Stiles storms out of the diner for the second time that week. 

He goes back to the diner just as the dinner rush is filtering out. Coincidentally, Stiles knows it’s about the same time Derek will be clocking out. 

“Scott and Erica had a bet.” He says, catching Derek the second he steps out of the diner.

“Okay?”

“About whether or not I have a crush on you.”

“Oh.” Derek says, face cryptically blank.

“That’s it?”

“Erica and Boyd have a bet about whether you punch me or kiss me first.” Derek says it like it’s a peace offering.

“Was everyone aware I had a crush on you besides me?”

“Looks like.” Derek is barely suppressing a smirk.

“That’s embarrassing.”

“Kind of.”

“Fuck off.”

Stiles is seriously debating punching Derek when Derek steps forward. Stiles freezes on reflex, anxious magic coursing through him. Derek hugs him briefly, pats him on the head, and then gets into his car and leaves. 

“What the fuck.” Stiles whispers to himself. He swears he hears Erica’s laughter coming from inside the diner. 

On Wednesday, Stiles and Scott babysit a boy named Braden who begs them for two hours to go to the park. Stiles does not want to go to the park. But like all things in his life, Stiles does not get what he wants. So here they are. At the park. 

Stiles has forgiven Scott for his evil bet but only because Stiles needs somebody to vent to about the head pat. 

“Maybe he does like you? Maybe you weren’t obvious enough?” Scott suggests, while simultaneously giving Braden a thumbs up for making it across the monkey bars. 

“I literally admitted to having a crush on him.” 

“Yeah but maybe he still thinks it’s only a physical thing.”

“Sorry that he can’t differentiate between my lustful chemosignals and my emotional ones.”

“Ew. Never use the word ‘lustful’ ever again, especially when talking about Derek.”

“We need to boycott the diner.”

Scott snorts. “Yeah, because that worked so well the first time.”

“It would have if you weren’t such a traitor!”

Scott pats his head.

Stiles scowls.

They go to the diner for dinner, because of course they do. Stiles can’t even be mad when he walks in to find Cora sitting in their booth.

“Oh. My. God.” Stiles is not embarrassed to admit that he squeals like a schoolgirl when he hugs her. “How have you been?  _ Where  _ have you been? You’re so tan!”

Cora preens. “Thanks, I’ve been in Brazil mostly.”

They’re still hugging when Derek arrives, followed closely by Boyd. “Oh, so we’re not mad at Cora for the whole werewolf secret thing?”

Stiles sticks his tongue out at him. Derek responds by squeezing himself into the booth next to him.

“Who the fuck smells like disgustingly sweet adoration right now?” Cora asks, loudly. 

Everybody silently stares at Stiles. 

“Is that what that smell is? Me and Boyd had a bet about whether or not it was just his BO.” Erica says casually, placing drinks on the table. 

“Can everybody stop fucking betting on me?!”

Stiles storms out of the diner for what seems like the hundredth time. This time, however, Derek follows him.

“I hate your friends.” Stiles says, not moving from where he’s sitting on the curb.

“They’re your friends, too.” Derek chuckles, sitting next to him.

“Nope, you can have them.”

“I was in on the bet.” Derek says after a minute. Stiles sighs. “I thought it was just your ADHD. Scott said that wasn’t it, but he didn’t know what was. I said it had to be your ADHD because you smelled like it all the time. But you didn’t.” He pauses. “You only smelled like that around me.” 

“Fuck off.” Stiles mutters, standing up from the curb.

“Stiles.” Derek says softly. Stiles isn’t facing him, but he can feel how close Derek is standing behind him. “You like me.”

“Yeah, I fucking know that.” He laughs angrily. “So does everybody else.”

“You  _ like  _ me.”

Stiles spins around. “I literally told you that like, four days ago.”

“Yeah, but I thought you were just trying to get in my pants.” Stiles is very aware of how close they are. He takes a step back and punches Derek softly on the shoulder. It’s painfully awkward until Derek catches his wrist and pulls him in for a kiss. They ignore the whoops and cheers coming from inside the diner. 

“For the record,” Stiles smirks, “I absolutely do also want to get in your pants.” 

“Noted.” Derek smiles, leaning in to kiss him again.

**Author's Note:**

> kudos are nice :)


End file.
